


Bride in the North

by AbsinthexMind



Series: Moon of my life [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Escape, F/M, Family Reunions, Forced Marriage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reunions, direwolf, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 19:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13083612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: The Snarling She-Wolf finally returns to Winterfell only to be married off to the bastard of the flayed men.





	Bride in the North

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a Christmas present for all of you ^^

“No.” 

“Sansa-” 

“No! I won’t allow this.” Your younger sister protests in the litter. She’s seated right next to you while Petyr Baelish is on the other side, waiting patiently for her to calm down. He had much more patience with Sansa than he ever did with you. You suspected that it had to do with his weird attraction to her. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. You saw the way he looked at her even before Sansa had told you about how he had kissed her. You hadn’t been very happy about that, but there wasn’t much you could do. He had saved you and your sister, even killed your Aunt Lysa when she went so far as to threaten pushing Sansa out of the Moon Door. You didn’t trust the man one bit. Even more so as the three of you were traveling back to the north. Back to Winterfell. Not for what you had hoped; he wasn’t returning you home just out of the kindness of his heart. He had just revealed to you and your sister that he had married you off to the Boltons. Thinking it over you were probably the better candidate. For one, Littlefinger didn’t care one lick about you. He loved Sansa who reminded him so much of your late mother. You reeked of the north, of the Starks. Petyr could care less about what happened to you. You would’ve willingly volunteered yourself to marry anyone he needed as you had back at King’s Landing when you tried to stop the marriage between Sansa and Tyrion. 

Now you were also the Lady of Winterfell. Nearly all of your family was wiped out. You didn’t know if Arya was alive and with each passing day you doubted she was. As far as you knew, you and Sansa were the only living Starks left. As eldest, Winterfell belonged to you. That was a major bonus. 

“It’s okay Sansa. Really.” 

She shakes her head. “I don’t like this.” 

“It’s for the best.” Littlefinger tries to reason with her. “It’s only temporary. Do you really think I’d leave you to the Boltons?” Maybe you, but not Sansa. No, he would never leave his precious Sansa in the hands of the family who had the sigil of a flayed man on their banners. He’d get her out as soon as possible. But you? You were pretty sure he’d let you rot with the Boltons. Sansa had made it clear though that both of you were a pair. Wherever one of you went, the other followed. 

“As soon as I’m done with my business in King’s Landing all be back for you.” 

Sansa gave him a hard look before turning them to gaze out the window. You were happy though. Happy that she wouldn’t be the one married off again. You could do this much for her. 

Your gloved hand inches towards her own and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Think of it this way, we’ll finally be home at least. How many years has it been since we’ve seen Winterfell?” 

Voice quiet you catch her murmuring “Feels like eternity.” 

You fully knew that Winterfell wouldn’t be the same. Neither of you would ever be the same. But you could try to though. Home was home. Even though all of your family was gone you still had Sansa. You would do anything to protect her. Even more so now that you were out of King’s Landing. 

Turning your head to look out the window on your side you make out the familiar scenery that would lead to the walls of your childhood home. Snow was already heavily blanketing the land and even falling gently from the sky. You hadn’t liked the warm weather in the south. You preferred the cold. Your best memories were in the cold. You and Jon snuggling together in that abandoned watch tower, trying to catch a few minutes alone together before someone went looking for you. His coat was big enough to cover the both of you easily. You always liked it when his beard would rub against your cheek lovingly as he pulled you closer to his chest. The smell of the fur on his coat always made your stomach tingle with warmth. 

You loved the snow. 

You started to try and think about how far away Castle Black was. Fantasies ran through your mind, imagining yourself showing up at the gates of Castle Black and calling out for Jon. You could picture Ghost being the first one to hear you and come bounding up to you. He must be a giant now. You sadly thought of Storm. If she was still alive and how big she was. Your time at the Eyrie had you thinking about being in the wolf’s body and if it was possibly Storm’s body you had been in. You had heard about wargs and their ability to go into an animal’s body. They weren’t well thought of, even considered evil. But it could be possible that you had warged into Storm’s body. It made so much sense. You wondered if Jon had the same ability with Ghost. 

Drawing closer to Winterfell you didn’t see the banners of House Stark. They were replaced by the flayed man of the Boltons. It filled you with dread. Winterfell didn’t belong to the Boltons. It belonged to the Starks. Always had and always will, no matter how many of them were left. You would fight tooth and nail to get your family’s sigil back on the walls. 

A small group was waiting for you once you and your sister stepped out of the litter. You looked around what had once been your home. They looked to still be in the process of rebuilding what the fire had destroyed. Everyone who had once lived there was now dead thanks to Theon Greyjoy. Bran, Rickon, Maester Luwin. . . The Greyjoy kraken had decimated your home and now the flayed men dared to even claim it as their own. 

A sallow faced man with alarming pale blue eyes greeted you. On one side of him was a rather large woman who remained silent and watching. Behind him followed a younger man with identical eyes and pallid complexion much like the older man in front of him. 

“Welcome Lady (y/n), Lady Sansa.” Like dirty chips of ice, his eyes roam over you. This was the man that played a part of your brother’s demise. You bit down on your tongue, not trusting in replying to him. Sansa, still being the proper lady took the courtesy upon herself to do the introductions. After, Petyr Baelish explained that you were to be wed to Ramsay, Roose’s bastard son; the one who stood behind him. Ramsay now stepped in to stand beside his father and smile at you. 

“It is quite an honor to be wed to a lady as beautiful as you. Perhaps one day you’ll regain the title of Lady of Winterfell.” 

“Not any day soon.” Roose seemed to remind him making Ramsay’s smile falter slightly. 

Ramsay’s smile returns when he looks back at you. “Shall we get you and your sister out of this cold and situated back home?” 

Holding onto your arm, Sansa followed you as the Boltons led you into what used to be your home. Every inch brought back memories as well as ghosts. Chasing your siblings around, getting yelled at in the halls by your Septa, inviting Jon into your bed to get in a good make-out session in the dead of night. . . They were still there. They would always be there even when the Boltons had made it feel like a much different place. 

Sansa was taken to what would be her new room while Ramsay led you to what had actually used to be Robb’s room. It felt like another stab in your heart, but Ramsay couldn’t possibly have known that this had been your twin’s room. 

Forlornly you gaze around until your eyes fall upon Ramsay who is simply observing you with that smile of his. 

“It must be strange being back home after so long in the hands of the Lannisters.” 

You didn’t like small talk. Especially when it reminded you of a time you would much like to forget. “Very strange.” Murmuring you sigh. Ramsay still lingered around you, waiting for something; for what, you didn’t know but it was starting to slightly bother you. You’re about to say something about it until there’s a lonesome howl that echoes in the distance. Heart beating you turn and try and look out the window, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see anything. You were certain though that it was a wolf’s howl, a direwolf’s howl. Breathing shakily you force your hand to stay at your side and to not touch the windowpane. 

Ramsay chuckles and moves in next to you. “The wolves have returned to the north.” 

At least one wolf has. You couldn’t help holding out hope that it was Storm. From the times you remembered of her howling it sounded so much like her. 

“My lady, if you’ll accompany me to the great hall we can have our supper. You must be famished.” He holds out his arm and you reluctantly slip your arm through. Ramsay seemed all too happy about you being on his arm which is understandable. He would be marrying you later that night and have a hold on Winterfell more plausible than his father’s.  
  
  


The ceremony had been much quicker than Sansa’s own to Tyrion. You had silently hoped it would be longer to prolong the inevitable wedding night. The Boltons were smart though and had you married off as soon as possible so that you could quickly consummate it. Winterfell was their’s now by marriage to you. You hadn’t even had time to breathe much. Now you found it difficult as you stared listlessly at what would be your marital bed. The thought of having sex with Ramsay made your stomach queasy. You had almost had sex with Bronn, but that was different. He was different from Ramsay. You didn’t want the cock of a traitor’s son anywhere near you. 

Door creaking you turn and stop breathing all together. 

Another traitor. 

Theon Greyjoy. 

He wasn’t as you had left him though. Something was off about him. He was timid and fidgety, unable to meet your gaze. 

“Theon?” 

He jumps at your voice. “I-It’s Reek now.” 

No matter what name he went by he was still the bastard that killed your younger brothers and everyone else in Winterfell. He was the cause of their demise. 

You lunged at him, tackling him to the floor as he cried out. It became a choke when you had your hands around his throat. “You son of a bitch.” You squeezed tighter. “You bastard.” The calmness of your own voice surprised you. Despite how enraged you were you didn’t raise your voice as you squeezed the life out of him. 

Before you could send him along to the Stranger, someone pulls you off of him. Theon sits up, gasping for air. 

“My, my. I had no idea my little wife was so bloodthirsty.” 

You push Ramsay away from you. “Why is that pile of vermin shit here?” 

“Rest assured my lady, he is no longer the Theon you used to know. He’s a completely different man now. Subservient. He’ll obey your every command. Isn’t that right Reek?” Ramsay asks a trembling Theon who stiffly nods. 

You weren’t buying it though. “I want him dead. He killed my brothers.” 

For some strange reason that seemed to please Ramsay immensely as he looks at you with complete admiration. “Would that please you? If I let you kill him?” His voice was husky as he stalks toward you. 

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve said that he was turned on. 

“Get him out of my sight.” was all you could muster up. 

“Unfortunately there has to be someone to bear witness to our consummation.” Your husband purrs, his hands placed at your shoulders and starting to rub them in what you supposed was meant to be in a sensual manner. It only made you feel disgusted. Skin crawling and stomach clenching in the worst possible way you knew what would come next. “Just try to pretend he’s not here though.” 

The sound of your laces being ripped apart made you shut your eyes tightly. You were doing this for Sansa so that she didn’t have to go through with it. Ramsay palms at your naked back and harshly turns you so that you’re facing him now. You would not show him how scared you were. You were a direwolf. A Stark. 

Your resilient look only made him even more excited. The feeling of your gown falling from your shoulders and slipping down the length of your body threatened you with the feeling of humility. You pushed it back down and held the fire that roared in you. The itching that your teeth gave as you wanted to sink them into his neck and rip open his throat. When he went to grab at your neck you slapped his hand away. Instead you viciously grab onto his crouch making his eyes go wide and a slight gasp. 

“I may be your wife. I may have to subject myself to your pleasure. But you listen here. This is my home. I will not be humiliated in my home, in the very room my twin slept in. You may not respect me, but you should at least have the common sense to fear me. I’m a woman yes, but look where my hand is now.” You dug your fingers further to accentuate your words making him squirm uncomfortably but he doesn’t move. He keeps his focus locked onto you. “We will be sharing a bed together, eating meals together. Remember this, Ramsay Bolton, you will not be safe. So you better treat me and my sister cordially. You’ll fuck me, that is the wifely duty I must endure, but no way will I let you harm me. You were right when you said the wolves had returned to the north. That wolf is me.” 

For a while Ramsay stared at you, his expression unreadable as you continued to have a grip on his groin. You even noticed a silent and scared looking Theon in the corner as he held his breath, waiting for Ramsay’s reaction. Ever so slowly, Ramsay’s crooked smile returned and a certain light in his eyes made them look even more untrustworthy. 

“I knew I loved you from the moment I saw you.” Breathily he whispers. He tries to go in for a kiss but you let go of his cock and take a step back. 

“Kiss me and I’ll rip your lips off with my bare teeth.” 

That really shouldn’t have caused him to go erect. Inwardly shuddering you climb onto the bed. 

“Hurry up and do what you’re going to do.” 

You didn’t even try fooling yourself into thinking of Jon’s tender touches as Ramsay fucked you. You didn’t want to dirty your fantasies with the ramming of Ramsay’s cock inside of you.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  


Like most of everything that involved the Boltons, Myranda was proving to be a complete pain in your ass. You knew from the way she acted that she must have feelings for Ramsay. You could hardly care less. Hell, you wished Ramsay was only having sex with Myranda. Since your union, every night Ramsay expected you to give him your body. He liked that you fought back. That you glared at him with each thrust and that you even sometimes would growl at him or even attack him if he pushed you past the limits you had set for him. For some reason your cold aggressiveness toward him simply attracted him more to you. You couldn’t think why. 

Jealousy practically radiated off of the kennel master’s daughter though. She was no more than a pesky fly to you though. As she tried to antagonize you you merely brushed her off which would make her even more furious. After one specific incident where she actually tried to do you harm you had punched the daylights out of her. Ramsay didn’t take to kindly to that and had given you a scolding, making his tone sound like you were a child acting out. Myranda kept her distance from you after that. You had let everyone know early on that you had teeth and weren’t afraid to use them on anyone. You weren’t aware of how long you had been living in the Bolton occupied Winterfell, but it felt like it could’ve been a year. It was the howling at night that got you through to face the morning. The howling of Storm. After Ramsay had had his way with you and was heavily asleep you would go to the window and look out to the walls that surrounded the castle. You’d close your eyes and you were back in Storm’s body. It was like she felt your presence too. Somehow you knew that she was aware of you inside of her skin as well. Through her eyes you saw the watch towers of Winterfell from the other side of the gates. She waited. She was always waiting for you. 

_Soon. Soon I’ll find a way to get out of here._

You were sure it wouldn’t be long. Everyone was talking about Stannis Baratheon and how he was on his way to try and take Winterfell for his own. In the chaos that ensued battle would be your best opportunity for you and your sister to get out. To hell with any plan that Littlefinger had for you and Sansa. You and Sansa were getting out and meeting up with Storm. She was big enough now to offer a lot of protection. The three of you could escape to Castle Black and hide behind their walls for a while. That was the reason you tried telling yourself, but truthfully you wanted to be with Jon desperately. You knew he was a sworn brother but at least you’d be able to see him. You’d be able to hear his voice. And Storm would be able to see her own brother again too. You wondered if Ghost had grown as big as she had. 

That time came sooner than you had expected. Stannis had brought his meager army to face off against the Boltons. From what the others were saying, it didn’t seem like the last Baratheon brother had a chance of winning. His reign would end there at Winterfell. 

You wouldn’t let this chance slip through your fingers like you had at the battle of the Blackwater. You would escape with Sansa. 

This time she was ready. Her hand tightly held in your’s, the two of you ran for it but encountered Myranda with her bow. A cowering Theon flinching right behind her. 

“Now what are you two doing out here? Go back to your room.” 

“Let us pass.” Instructing her with an ever calm voice, your other hand that wasn’t holding Sansa’s constricted around your sword’s hilt. The sword that you had managed to sneak out of the weaponry room and hid in your cloak. If she dared to get in the way, you would end her quickly before she made too much of a fuss. 

“Why would I do that? Must I escort you back to your room, my lady?” She grins so sweetly that it’s sickening. 

“That won’t be necessary. We have no plans on going back.” Moving Sansa behind you, you positioned yourself better to strike her. Myranda may have had a bow, but you were close enough to her that you could cut her down before she even loosened her string. Bows held no advantage in close combat. 

“Nonsense. You still haven’t made an heir for Ramsay yet. He still has use of you. After he gets a son or two, then can you leave. In pieces.” 

Before you could be the one to slice her to pieces, it was Theon who had grabbed her and thrown her over the edge so that she fell to her death with a sick splat. You stared at him as he did the same, astonished with himself. The rumbling of the gates alerted you that the troops were coming back. Ramsay was coming back. His gloved, mutilated, hand grabs your’s and drags you and Sansa along the watchtower wall until you were faced with having to jump. Sansa squeezed your hand and you yourself took a deep breath. Hoping that the snow was at least soft enough to break your fall so you didn’t end up like Myranda, or worse, Bran.  


The breath completely left you as you collided with the snow. You knew your body would ache come the morrow if you lived that long. Struggling to get up from the snow, the three of you make a mad dash into the woods. It wasn’t long before you heard the barking of Ramsay’s hounds. You knew what those hounds could do and it made you even colder to think about what they would do if you slowed down in your running. You had to pull Sansa along as she was starting to tire out. Growing weak and exhausted yourself you found it difficult not to stumble. The barks and growls were growing closer and you knew you couldn’t out run them. Theon knew that as well as he made you and your sister hide in a hollowed out tree. 

“I’ll distract them. Castle Black isn’t far from here. Jon is lord commander now. He’ll take care of the two of you.” 

“Theon-” Trying to protest, your hand was permanently frozen to your sword’s pommel. You could help him fight. Well. . . if it came to it you hoped you could. It had been a long time since you practiced with a sword. 

From what you could hear, the soldiers sent after the three of you weren’t buying the excuses that Theon was coming up with. The hounds could smell you. You held onto Sansa as they came snapping at you. You flinched as the soldiers struggled to keep the dogs at bay. Hands grabbed at you and your sister and pulled you out of your hiding place. Before they could force you onto your feet there’s a loud snarl before a large mass of gray fur hurls itself out of nowhere, lunging at the guard closest to Sansa. The man cries out as the others around him try to get away from the giant beast that was now attacking everyone left to right. The hounds shied away from the large creature and those who weren’t being pursued by the beast found that they couldn’t get away as two more riders entered. Someone you had seen before oh so long ago. Brienne of Tarth had stopped you and your sister on your way to the Boltons and claimed to have been your mother’s sworn shield and set with the task of finding and protecting you and your sisters. Sansa had denied her, seeing as the large woman hadn’t done much help in protecting anyone. 

A guard, seeing that you were distracted tried to get close to you and Sansa. You saw the glint of his sword and remembered where you were. You swung your own at him, startling the man and making him back up unknowingly into Storm’s waiting jaws. They clamped securely onto his neck. She tossed her head back and forth until there was a loud snapping sound. Satisfied she threw him aside. 

Tears froze in your eyes as you dropped your sword into the snow. “Storm. . .” 

Just as you had thought, she was humongous, towering over you. She pressed her large forehead against your tiny one. You were thawed from her radiating warmth. You threw your arms around her massive neck and buried your face in her thick fur.  
  
  
  
  


On top of Storm, you found it difficult to stay awake. Turning you see that Sansa is having an equally difficult time up on Brienne’s horse. Through strained and weary eyes you made out the outline of the Wall. 

Storm stopped and tilted her head back to howl. It startled everyone in your party when she did so and even more when there was a reply howl that echoed in the direction of the Wall. Her ears flicked and you had to hold on for dear life as she started running, making the others chase after you. She only slowed down when she reached the gates. 

“Who goes there?!” A voice shouts down. 

“Lady (y/n) and Lady Sansa of house Stark!” You shout. “We demand to see our brother Jon Snow!” 

There’s a quiet before you could hear the command to open the gate. With a loud groan, the gates slowly pull open. 

Men of the Night’s Watch stream out to observe you. Brienne goes to help Sansa off her horse while Podrick and Theon both bump into each other with the same intent on helping you off of Storm. You didn’t wait for them though. You slipped off her back rather easily and off she went, searching for her albino brother. The Black Brothers back off when she goes bounding in their direction, quite alarmed by her. 

“Where’s Jon?” Sansa asks. 

You had been too busy watching Storm that you hadn’t even noticed that your brother was standing up on a wooden walkway. Sansa’s own question had been answered as she stares up at him. Hesitantly you follow her gaze and your breath catches in your throat. You had dreamed and fantasized how your reunion would be with Jon. Now that it was actually real, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, just in case it was indeed all a dream. 

Slowly Jon walked down the wooden steps that led down to the training ground. Stiffly you forced your own feet to move until the you both were standing right in front of each other. His wild, dark, curls, were restrained and smoothed back. Fresh looking cuts marred his face and you wondered of the story behind them. 

You couldn’t do it anymore. 

You threw your arms around his neck. Having been anticipating this, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off your feet. A sob made your body tremble in his arms and you felt Jon tighten his embrace.  
  
  


Later that evening, after both you and Sansa recounted of the terrible events that followed your father’s death, you and Jon are left alone in the Lord Commander’s chambers. The lit fireplace warmed your frozen limbs and also warmed your insides as well as you stole glances at Jon. He looked so much more mature, much more refined. He looked the part that a Lord Commander should. Since your arrival you hadn’t been able to keep a reasonable distance from him. You were glued to him since your embrace. Neither one of you wanting to ever let the other go. Which could possibly appear odd considering that he didn’t treat Sansa in the same manner. Of course Jon had embraced her as well, but he had easily released her from his arms. You. . . Well, you had been another story. Either his hand was on the small of your back, your arm, wherever. Jon had to be touching you, making sure you were real and not going anywhere. At that point you didn’t care if anyone was suspicious. You had spent years in hell. You would fight anyone who tried to take Jon away from you. 

The two of you alone, he told you about his time in the Night’s Watch. Going beyond the wall, joining the wildlings, meeting Ygritte, even to being killed by his own men. He told you about Ygritte reluctantly, as if you would be furious with him. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t felt at least a little bit hurt, but you understood. The same thing had nearly happened with you and Bronn. Luckily for you, being drunk had stopped you from actually going through with it. You hadn’t exactly been celibate though. Being married to Ramsay, you had to give him your body when he desired. 

Jon held both of your hands in his, those large, callused hands of his that consumed your own tiny ones. The gray in his eyes flickering with the dancing light of the fireplace. “You had to do what you had to do (y/n). Don’t ever be ashamed of that.” 

“I should’ve slit his throat while I had the chance.” A shaky murmur makes your throat clench. “I _will_ slit his throat. Now that I know Sansa is in a safe place I’ll go back and kill him and take back Winterfell.” 

“You can’t do it by yourself. Ramsay has an army.” 

“I’ll get one then. Gather the northern lords. Surely they won’t want a Bolton being Warden of the North. Even if I am a girl, a girl Stark is better than no Stark. I’ll finish what Robb started.” Lips quivering, you hunch forward. “I’ll be Queen in the North if I have to. I’ll do it for Robb, for my mother, for father, for everyone that has been taken away from us.” 

Gently lifting your face up so that you can look at him. “You don’t have to do any of that alone. I’ll be with you.” 

“You still want to be with me. . . in that way?” You were afraid to ask, but you just had to know. Could the two of you possibly go back to the way you had been all those years ago. 

“If you’ll have me. I was thinking of leaving the Night’s Watch anyway. I was killed by my own brothers. Men who I thought I could trust. How could I possibly continue to lead them knowing of what they have done? And now that I know you’re alive and here, I can’t possibly let you go. I refuse to let you go. We’ll fight Ramsay together. Once we kill him and take back the north, we’ll have you named Queen in the North. Or Warden of the North. Whatever you want to be called. As long as I’m by your side. I know it’ll cause problems, but can I be selfish enough to want to be with you through it all and be the only man you ever love? As you are the only woman I could possibly dream of loving for the rest of my life.” 

When you smile a few tears you had been trying to keep at bay roll down your cheeks and onto his fingers which were still holding your chin. “It sounds like you’re proposing to me Jon.” 

He too smiles making his eyes crinkle a bit. Leaning his forehead against your’s, you take initiative and close the gap between your lips; your fingers digging into the furs of his coat as you kiss him. Whatever would happen in the future, you knew that you would be okay. As long as you had Jon, everything would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the final part to my "Moon of My Life" series. I mean I will be writing more for Jon Snow x Stark!Sister!Reader, but for this story it will be over.


End file.
